Frozen Bananas and Fake Psychics
by CubsKing
Summary: Shawn and Gus take a corporate case in Newport Beach to find a missing person. Now, if they could just get some straight answers!
1. A New Case

**Frozen Bananas and Fake Psychics**

Timeframe: Psych – Any time. No known spoilers. Arrested Development – Post Season 3, but ignoring Season 4.

Disclaimer: The idea behind this is mine but, alas, I own neither Psych nor Arrested Development. Except on DVD, but I'm pretty sure that gives me no other claims on them…

Author's Note: So, I started on this idea a LONG time ago. Well before Netflix summoned AD back as a zombie show for Season 4. And well before Shawn & Gus went to Mexico chasing a character played by Jeffrey Tambor in their own show. Actually, I finished it a long time ago, too, but I never posted it. I found it the other day and decided to give it a little polish and finally post it. I hope you enjoy!

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Burton Guster was not in a good mood. His morning pharmaceutical sales route had not been profitable. He wasn't going to be able to make up for it during the afternoon, either, because his best friend and partner in crime-fighting, Shawn Spencer, wouldn't stop distracting him. So far, Gus had received 2 phone calls at the office, 4 calls on his cell phone, 3 calls on his _other_ cell phone, 93 text messages and even a singing telegram at one of his sales appointments.

Storming up the sidewalk to the headquarters of their psychic detective agency, Psych, Gus started to rip into his partner the moment he'd passed through the front door. "I can't believe you, Shawn. Over 90 text messages in a 3 hour period, half of them sent to my work cell phone! How did you even get that number, anyway?"

"Gus, it's on your business card. Besides, who wouldn't want to get one of those text picture things of a pineapple that says 'call me' delivered to their cell phone? I know it always makes my day better," Shawn responded, looking up from his comic book as Gus slammed his sample case down on his desk. "Anyway, I had to do something to get your attention."

"For your information, it's called ASCII art. And you thought the best way to get my attention was with a singing telegram while I was on a sales call? Really, Shawn?" Gus bitterly retorted. "Don't you have any cases to work on instead of pestering me while I'm trying to actually get some work done at my real job?"

"Dude, I _am_ working! That's what I was trying to tell you! We've got a _huge_ private investigating job to do down in Newport Beach!" Shawn excitedly informed his partner.

"No, Shawn. I am _not_ driving you to Newport Beach," Gus firmly stated. "Besides, what's so special that would make you want to take a job down there?"

"First of all, who _wouldn't_ want to go to the Balboa Fun Zone? Second, the birthplaces of Howard Alden and Amanda Beard? I'm so there. And how could you pass up frozen dipped bananas on a stick? Personally, they're only my 3rd favorite frozen dipped fruit, but still worth getting," Shawn rattled off. "But most importantly, we've been hired, at an exorbitant fee, to find a couple of missing persons... Missing people? Personas desaparcidas? Anyway, have you ever heard of the Bluth family?"

Gus's eyes went wide. "Are you for real, Shawn? As in the Bluth Company?"

"Yes!" Shawn yelled, pumping his fist in the air. He could see that Gus was already hooked.

"Who exactly are we looking for? And just how much are they paying us to find these missing people?" Gus inquired.

"Enough to pay for our rent and daily pineapple-guava smoothies for the next 2 years," Shawn informed him.

Gus let out a long, low whistle.

Shawn clapped his hands together. "I knew you'd come around!" he gleefully exclaimed.

"Shawn, this is serious. These guys have been in the news a lot lately," Gus informed him.

"Good. So the information should be fresh in that beautiful chocolate noggin of yours. Tell me everything you know about the Bluth family," Shawn demanded.

"OK. The Bluth Company was bumped up to 'risky' on Mad Money by Jim Cramer a few months ago, but that was before their most recent scandal broke out. The matriarch, Lucille, has been arrested by the Securities Exchange Commission for skimming from the company funds. She tried to escape by taking the Queen Mary out to sea. This was right on the heels of the patriarch, George Sr., having the charges dropped against him for treason, as was featured in an episode of 'Scandalmakers'," Gus summarized.

Shawn snapped his fingers. "I _knew_ I'd heard about their problems somewhere before!"

"So, who is it that we're supposed to be looking for?" Gus inquired.

"When the raid on the boat took place, George Sr. and Michael, the acting president while his father was in prison, both managed to escape capture," Shawn disclosed. "It appears that the remaining family members want them back."

"How are they supposed to be paying us, Shawn?" Gus asked. "The SEC has all of their accounts frozen."

"Well, it seems that when they escaped, Michael had $500,000 in cashier's checks with him," Shawn explained. "They didn't tell me how he escaped yet, but we should be able to find out when we go to our first meeting."

"Wait, Shawn. You don't know how he escaped and you didn't think to ask?" Gus asked angrily.

"Of course I didn't ask, Gus," Shawn replied, looking incredulous. "You can't ask an e-mail anything. At least not without looking crazy."

Gus's eyes narrowed and some of his anger returned. "You haven't even _spoken_ to them yet, Shawn? I can't believe this!"

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Gus. We will when we go to the meeting. Besides, the e-mail came from one of the most reputable anonymous webmail providers," Shawn said. He checked the clock on his computer and threw up his hands in frustration. "We've got to get going now and we don't even have time to stop for coffee at that place with the pineapple creamer before the meeting."

"I'm still not going, Shawn."

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that our meeting is at the corporate headquarters with the temporary president? Judging by his e-mail address, GOB123, he must be a big fan of Everlasting Gobstoppers," Shawn declared.

"That's GOB, pronounced like the book in the Bible. It's short for George Oscar Bluth. He's the oldest son," Gus explained.

"See? There you go. With Mom and Dad and the previous CEO out of the picture, of course the oldest son is running the business," Shawn surmised.

"I don't know, Shawn," Gus hedged.

"Would you feel better if we called the office to make sure the meeting is real?" Shawn offered.

"Yes, I would," Gus declared.

"Fine, mister scaredy-girl-cat," Shawn taunted as he dialed his phone. A few moments later, he spoke into the device with an outrageous Spanish accent.

"Yes, this is Enrique Espanosa with Psych," he lisped. "I was calling to confirm that my boss, the incomparable Shawn Spencer, is scheduled for a meeting with the president at 2:00... Yes, I can wait while you find someone that can use the computer... And while you go find your computer..."

A few minutes later, he spoke again. "Yes, I'm still here... Alright, he will be there. Have a nice afternoon!"

Shawn turned to Gus. "Are you happy now?"

"Very. Now, what are you waiting for? I have a reputation to maintain of never being later."

"Dude, you're late all the time!" Shawn protested. "Just yesterday, you were 2 hours late for your teeth cleaning."

"Only because you rescheduled it without telling me!"

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-04


	2. Welcome to Chaos Inc

**Chapter 2**

"Well, this wasn't exactly what I expected," Shawn said as they left the elevator and entered the lobby of the Bluth Company headquarters. They quickly jumped out of the way to avoid being struck by a bowling ball heading down the hallway. It was followed closely by a pair of remote controlled cars. The sound of a karaoke machine could be heard from somewhere around the corner.

A quick walk through the premises showed no evidence of any work being done anywhere in the office. The only person even in their own seat was the inattentive woman sitting at the barren receptionist's desk in the lobby. She was holding a cell phone in one hand and a nail file in the other. She completely failed to notice Shawn and Gus enter the floor and pass her. By the time they finished looking over the scene and returned, she still hadn't moved.

"Excuse me," Shawn said as he knocked on the desk. "Hi. I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my partner Habanero Go-Go Boots."

The lady at the desk didn't respond.

They waited for a few more moments, hoping for a delayed reaction. They still received nothing but silence.

"Hello?" Shawn said, waving a hand in front of the woman's face. He again received no response.

"Aw, man! I can't believe I wasted a perfectly good intro," Shawn whined.

"Dude, I got this," Gus said cockily as he rubbed his thumb along his nose. He took a seat on the desk, reached across and tapped the woman on the shoulder.

She jerked violently and swatted at the hand Gus was quickly pulling away. When she calmed down a moment later, she took a quick at the man sitting on her desk and gave him her most inviting leer.

Shawn and Gus both jumped back in response to the scary-looking smile.

"Hey there," Gus said with a forced smile. "I'm here with my partner for our 2:00 PM appointment."

"Are you Shawn Spencer?" the woman asked him.

"I'm Shawn Spencer," Shawn interjected. "This is my partner, Senor Snuffleupagus."

"You can call me Gus."

"Most people call me Kitty, but you can call me whatever and whenever you want," she replied with a giggle. "I'll just let GOB know that you're here."

She turned to the door near her desk. "GOB!" she screamed without leaving her chair. "Misters Spencer and Snuffleupagus are here."

"Who?" an irritated voice yelled back.

"That psychic detective you hired, you [bleep]ing moron," she shouted before turning back to the men at her desk, muttering under her breath. "I can't believe I actually miss having Michael in charge."

On hearing her comment, Shawn caught the eyes of his partner. He sent him a "This girl could have some vital intel" look.

Gus responded with a "I am _not_ flirting with her for some information" look in response.

Shawn looked down frustrated before shooting Gus a "Dude, you _know_ how important this is. You have to do it!"

Gus sent back a "Why don't you do it?"

Shawn replied with an "I have to go into the office and snoop" frown. He followed that with a "Besides, you're the ladies' man" smirk.

Gus gave a sideways nod, conceding the point.

Kitty missed the entire non-verbal conversation as she went back to filing her nails. Just as Shawn and Gus finished gesturing to each other, a thought occurred to her. Looking up at the men from Psych, she spoke.

"If you find Michael, tell him he's never going to see these again!" she exclaimed as she pulled her top up and flashed them. After turning from one man to the other for a full 15 seconds, she finally pulled her shirt back down.

Both Shawn and Gus stood there with looks of shock.

As Kitty finished showing her wares, they all heard some music start from inside the office. It sounded like Europe's "The Final Countdown" being played on an old tape deck that was dying, causing the tape to speed up, slow down and change pitches. They also saw a few wisps of smoke and smelled the distinctive odor of a fog machine. A few moments later, GOB slid out the door of his office, a deck of cards in hand.

At least, he attempted the slide out of the door. The carpeted floors didn't cooperate, causing his shoes to catch and topple him.

"Come on!" he yelled as he got back up.

Kitty rolled her eyes and went back to ogling Gus.

"You must be GOB. I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic super sleuth. This is my partner, Busybody McMahon," Shawn said as stepped towards the man. Just as he was about to reach out his hand to shake, he noticed the tube coming up the man's sleeve. He quickly stepped off to the side.

Almost instantly he was rewarded for his foresight. "And I'm GOB Bluth, CEO of Bluth Company and magician extraordinaire," he said as a stream of lighter fluid shot out of his coat and onto the nearby wall.

"Why does that never work?" GOB muttered as he turned his wrist and looked down his sleeve.

Before Shawn could knock the arm away, the flint caught, setting fire to one of GOB's eyebrows.

"Oh, [bleep]!" GOB screamed. Before anyone could help him, he turned around and stepped towards the door to his office. His aim was a little off, so he ran straight into the wall. Barely pausing, he moved to the left and hurried through the door, finding the nearest liquid he could and splashing his face.

Unfortunately, it was a glass of his mother's bourbon.

GOB finally got the fireball he wanted. However, it scorched his other eyebrow and most of the hair on his head in the process. It also set off the smoke alarm.

And the sprinkler system.

As the water from the sprinklers finally doused the flames and washed away the alcohol, GOB trudged out of his office. "I've made a huge mistake," he mumbled as he headed towards the exit, passing a stunned and sodden Gus and the empty desk where Kitty had been sitting before she high-tailed it out of the building at the first sign of trouble.

A few moments later, the sprinklers shut off. Almost instantly, the pseudo-psychic climbed out from under Kitty's desk. He shook off the few drops of water that had hit him.

"Dude, we've got the place to our self... or is it ourselves... for a few minutes until the fire department gets here and gives the all clear. Let's start snooping!" Shawn said excitedly.

Gus scowled as Shawn brushed past him and went into GOB's office.

"Dude, get in here!" Shawn shouted. He came back through the door, grabbed his partner by the arm, and dragged him into the office.

Gus growled his displeasure but followed Shawn's lead and started pulling open drawers. "This is horrible!" he cried a few moments later.

"What?" Shawn asked as he turned to face Gus.

"The filing system here is atrocious! They're even worse at organization than you are. I mean, how can you have bills from 2003 filed with permit registrations in 2007 and taxes from '06?" Gus complained.

"Well, what do they have in common?" Shawn asked.

"Nothing," Gus replied shortly.

"They gotta have something in common," Shawn pressed.

"There's nothing, Shawn," Gus declared. "It's like someone has just thrown things into folders in drawers at random."

"Huh," Shawn grunted distractedly, focused on the garbage can next to the desk. "Hey, Gus, check this out."

Gladly abandoning his fruitless search, Gus joined Shawn staring into the waste bin. "What's that?"

"That, my friend, is our first clue."

Near the top of the container was a framed picture. Under the shattered glass was a young woman standing next to a yacht.

"We find her, we find the missing men," Gus declared.

"Dude, why do you always try to do that?" Shawn asked.

"Do what?" Gus replied.

"That whole David Caruso ominous-talking thing?" Shawn shot back. "You know it doesn't work for you. It really doesn't work for anyone. Including him."

"Whatever, Shawn."

"Besides, you're totally wrong. _She's_ not the important thing. The _boat_ is," Shawn added gloatingly.

"How can you tell?"

"Look at the composition of the picture. It's been framed to get that yacht in the best light and at the optimal angle to lengthen its lines. Then look at the harsh lights and washed-out appearance of the girl. She's just shoved off to the side, like she was a last minute, and unwanted, addition," Shawn explained.

"I saw the purchase order for that yacht a few minutes ago," Gus exclaimed. "No wonder they're being investigated by the SEC."

"What does a boat have to do with college football?" Shawn questioned.

Gus gave his partner a pointed, disapproving glare. "The Securities & Exchange Commission. We've been through this already!"

"Whatever. Come on, let's get going before the firemen get here," Shawn said as he headed out.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-05


	3. Seeing the Sights

**Chapter 3**

"Now what, Shawn?" Gus asked as he opened the door to his car. He was quite disgruntled at the fact that when they had reached the front of the building, all of the Bluth Company employees had left. Including GOB, with whom they were still supposed to be meeting.

In fact, GOB had been the first one to leave, hopping on his Segway and heading to the pier for 'A GOB' (a double-dipped banana with everything on it. And 2 sticks) to soothe his frazzled nerves.

"How are we supposed to solve a case when we don't have anything to look at and our client doesn't seem to care?" Gus complained.

"Don't be a lazy eye, Gus," Shawn shot back. "We could go visit Lucille in her apartment, check out the banana stand, my personal favorite, or visit the model home."

Gus looked at Shawn with disbelief. "How did you possibly come up with all of those locations?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No, Shawn, it's not," Gus sniped. "Some of us don't have years of observational training and photographic memories."

"Point taken," Shawn conceded. "First, there was a rent bill on GOB's desk for the Balboa Towers. Second, there was a picture of the banana stand on the wall in the office. Finally, we have this."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a brochure. On the front it proudly displayed a model home and the unfortunate name "Sudden Valley." The location of the unit, dubbed Residence Two, was listed on the back as 1 Lucille Lane and gave vague, incomplete and more or less useless directions to the housing development.

"Well, let's start with the banana stand, since it's the closest," Gus opined.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

When Shawn and Gus reached the banana stand, however, they were unable to ask anyone any questions. There was no one there. The stand was opened up like it had been operating earlier in the day, but there was no one inside. Chocolate was splattered all over the counter and banana peels were thrown haphazardly near the trash can. The lid to the freezer was wide open, showing the empty contents to anyone that looked inside. They could hear it running, but all that it appeared to be doing was wasting money.

"Well, this is disappointing," Shawn commented. "I was really looking forward to a frozen banana."

Gus just shook his head and headed back towards the car.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

At the guard gate for Balboa Towers, Gus told the man that they were there to see Lucille Bluth. After a call to her apartment, they were allowed in and told where to go.

Shawn rang the doorbell when they got to her apartment a few minutes later. A short Mexican woman opened the door. Shawn and Gus glanced at each other in surprise as she rushed past them without saying a word.

"Lupe, don't forget to pack my jewelry!" a woman's voice bellowed, filling the apartment.

"Hello?" Shawn called as he took a few steps forward into the living room.

"Oh, good, you're here," the woman said as she walked out of the bedroom. She patted Gus on the cheek. "Now, be a good boy and carry my luggage downstairs."

"I am _not_ a bellboy!" Gus snapped.

"If you do a good job, I might give you a nice, shiny quarter!" she said, ignoring his protest and giving an exaggerated wink.

Gus scoffed at her offer, but before he could speak again, Shawn interrupted. "I'm sorry, there must be a misunderstanding. I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Fudge Custard."

"I don't care what your name is. I need my bags downstairs so I can flee the country. Now!" she hollered.

Shawn turned to his partner as he put his thumb and finger to his temple. "I'm sensing she's already drunk enough booze this morning to float a small navy."

Suddenly, Lucille stopped. "Wait, you're that psycho that GOB hired, aren't you?"

"Psychic, Mrs. Bluth," Shawn corrected. "Psychic detective, in fact, and I've got a few questions for you."

"I don't have time for questions! I have to go before they find out I'm planning to leave and throw me into prison. I can't live on Pruno!" she whined.

"We can't help you escape from your likely upcoming prison sentence," Gus stated coldly. "And quite frankly, even if we could, I don't want to help you escape."

"Let's see, where should I go?" Lucille mumbled as she walked past them and towards the kitchen, completely ignoring the pair again. "The house in Cabo is out because they'll extradite me. Maybe I can use one of Saddam's mini palaces. He's obviously not using them anymore…"

"Dude, she may be crazier than my dad!" Shawn whispered to his partner.

Gus nodded. "Come on, Shawn. Let's go before she comes back and tries to make us to do something else demeaning or illegal."

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-06


	4. Model Home Madness

**Chapter 4**

"Finally!"

"Hey, it's not my fault that you can't follow directions."

"Shawn, the so-called directions on the back of that pamphlet barely qualify. Seriously, how am I supposed to know how to turn 2 blocks before the tree that was bulldozed three years ago?" Gus asked in frustration. "And why couldn't we use the GPS on your phone?"

"Gus, you know my battery is dead from watching episodes of "The Mentalist" on the way down here," Shawn said as he heaved a martyred sigh. "And now I won't have anything to watch on the drive back."

"Whatever, Shawn," Gus said dismissively. "We're here now, so let's get this done so we can get home."

Gus pulled his car to a stop next to an airport stair truck. They got out and walked up to the front door, avoiding the cobblestones that were broken or missing in the front walkway and the Segway that was sprawled across the path. Gus reached out to ring the doorbell.

"Ah!" he cried as a strangled bell sounded inside the model home.

"What?" Shawn asked.

"It shocked me!" Gus griped.

When no one answered the doorbell after thirty seconds, Shawn knocked on the door.

The glass window pane in the door fell out and shattered.

"No wonder they couldn't sell any of these McMansions," Gus opined.

"Hello?" Shawn shouted through the hole in the door. Though he could hear a TV blaring inside, he still received no answer. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

"Do you think we should just go in?" Gus asked.

"Dude, how else are we going to snoop around?" Shawn replied with a derisive look as he stepped inside. "Besides, it's a model home. You're expected to walk in and take a look around."

"Whatever, Shawn," Gus said to his back as he also stepped through the open doorway.

The inside of the house could best be described as a disaster area. There were piles of Chinese takeout containers and opened pizza boxes sitting on the kitchen counter. Clothes were lying in piles on the floor. Magazines were spread about the dining room table. Dirty dishes were strewn across the entire area.

"Did a nursery of raccoons get lose in here?" Gus wondered aloud as he surveyed the scene.

"A nursery? Not a herd?"

"No, Shawn, a group of raccoons is called a nursery," Gus declared.

"I've heard it both ways. But judging by my time as an animal control officer, I'm afraid I have to disagree with you on both points, Gus," Shawn answered.

"You only spent a week there, and you never even left the office!" Gus objected.

"Either way, this place is in serious need of a maid," Shawn stated.

"I can't believe it! GOB actually came through! You must be from the housekeeping service!" a female voice cried from behind them.

Shawn and Gus turned to see a middle-aged woman with long blonde hair stepping off the bottom stair. She was wearing a black cocktail dress. With her heels, she stood the same height as them.

"We're not-" Gus started to say before being interrupted.

Pointing to Shawn, she said, "You can start down here."

"And you," she continued, turning to leer at Gus, "can come upstairs with me. There's something _very_ dirty in my bedroom that I need you to come help me with. Or at least there will be…"

Shawn and Gus' jaws dropped.

"Did she just…" Gus asked his partner.

"Yep," Shawn replied with a grin at his friend's expense.

"But we're not…"

"Nope."

"Don't you think we should…"

"Probably."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but we're not cleaners," Gus explained.

The woman deflated before them. "I knew it was too good to be true," she said with a sigh. She walked past them towards the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

"Maybe you can help us with something, though," Gus called out.

She perked up, turned around and gave them a predatory smile. "What did you have in mind? Because I'm ready and willing…"

Shawn decided to speak up as his partner took a nervous step backwards. "I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Rainbow Chipsdelux. We're investigating the disappearance of George and Michael Bluth."

She stared at them blankly.

"We were hired by GOB Bluth," Shawn added.

"Are you some of his Hot Cops friends doing some moonlighting?" she asked hopefully.

Shawn and Gus exchanged a quick, confused glance. "No, we really are detectives."

The woman's shoulders sagged again. "Oh. Well, go ahead and have a look around. I'm Michael's adopted sister, Lindsay."

"Thanks," Gus replied as Shawn started poking through the debris on the table.

"Just let me know if there's _anything_ I can do for you," she purred.

Gus backed up another step. "Great," he said warily.

Lindsay leered at him again before she walked around the counter in the kitchen. She opened a couple cabinets, obviously searching for something. After a few unsuccessful attempts to locate what she was looking for, she gave up and instead grabbed a bowl off of the counter. Without even rinsing it, she picked up a partially spilled box of Cheerios and dumped some into the bowl before she started to eat handfuls with her fingers, ignoring them.

Gus was appalled at her behavior. He turned to his partner, who didn't seem to even notice the disaster around him. "I really hope you've found something already," he moaned.

"You can't rush genius, Gus," Shawn said with reproach. "The only things I've found so far are a few travel advertisements for honeymoon cruises for a Mr. and Mrs. George Michael Bluth, but I haven't made it through all of the piles yet."

"This place is even worse than your apartment!" Gus lamented.

Shawn just shrugged. "Let's check out the rest of the place," he said as he walked towards the family room where he could hear a TV blaring.

"What do we have here?" a balding man in a house robe and cutoff shorts said as he glanced up from his seat in an overstuffed chair as Shawn and Gus entered the room.

"I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, and this is my partner, Leggo Myeggo," Shawn said.

"Mmm, a couple of good looking dicks. I'm Tobias Fünke, Analrapist and Actor," the man replied, handing Shawn a business card from his pocket and a headshot that he picked up off of the coffee table. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We're looking for George and Michael Bluth. Do you have any idea where they are?" Shawn asked.

"Hmm, I haven't seen George Michael lately," Tobias stated as he turned his attention back to the TV. "You'll have to ask my daughter Maeby if she's seen her cousin around lately. Oh, and if you see him, tell him that I can't wait for another one of those fully loaded bananas of his."

Gus and Shawn exchanged looks of frustration. "Not George Michael, George and Michael," Gus tried to explain. His statement fell on deaf ears, however, as Tobias had already closed his eyes and appeared well on his way to falling asleep. Within moments, they heard him start to snore.

"This is the weirdest family I've ever met!" Gus exclaimed as he turned to look at his partner again.

"Agreed," Shawn said with a nod. Without another word, he turned and left the room, heading towards the entry way.

"Shawn! Where are you going?" Gus demanded.

"Don't be a metaphorical monster hiding in a closet, Gus. I'm going to check out the bedrooms," Shawn said derisively as he headed up the steps. When he stepped onto the landing in the middle of the staircase, there was a loud crash in the living room. Looking over the railing, Shawn saw that the shelves of the wet bar under his feet had collapsed. He turned his gaze to the chair. Tobias hadn't stirred. Shaking his head, Shawn continued up the stairs and headed into the first bedroom on the left.

By the time Gus stepped through the door, Shawn was already rifling through papers at the desk on one end of a set of bunk beds. He paused for a moment and gazed at one paper that had been half buried under schoolwork before he resumed his search.

Before Gus had a chance to join in the hunt or to attempt to convince Shawn to leave, another voice startled them. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Shawn and Gus spun around to see a short girl dressed in a white blouse and a plaid skirt standing in the doorway. She had dark, curly hair and a face covered in freckles.

Shawn stuck a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. "Oh, I'm getting a vision. You're Maeby Fünke!" Shawn cried out.

Maeby's face lit up. "You've heard of me?"

"I haven't, but the spirits have. I'm seeing an image of you. You're standing in front of a bunch of people. And there's a priest. You're in a flowing white dress. You're getting married! But who is the groom? I'm getting some initials. I see an M and a G. G and M. Oh! And a B. GMB."

Maeby gasped.

"Yes! It's GMB, all right, and I'm starting to get something else. It's the marriage certificate! And it has the names. There's yours and there's the other. It's… It's… It's your cousin, George Michael Bluth!" Shawn's eyes popped open. "You married your cousin?"

It took Maeby a few moments to gather her wits about her before she could finally respond. "It's not what you think."

"The spirits pass no judgment," Shawn said.

"It was an accident," Maeby continued to justify.

"How do you accidentally get married to your cousin?" Gus asked in disbelief.

"It was supposed to be a fake ceremony for old people in the hospital," she explained. "Somehow it got done by a real priest and the next thing I know, there's a marriage license showing up at the door. And now George Michael's not even around to get it annulled."

Both Shawn and Gus perked up at that. "Where is George Michael?" Shawn asked with great interest.

Maeby began to pout. "I don't know. He never showed up for Pop-pop's party on the Queen Mary. Uncle Michael left to look for him and I haven't seen either one of them since. The next thing I knew, Uncle GOB had moved from his yacht into Uncle Michael's room and was hitting on my mom, which is all kinds of creepy."

Both Shawn and Gus shuddered.

"I know, right?" Maeby continued. "So now I'm stuck being the only one here with any sort of a job or, really, a grasp on reality. Wouldn't George Michael get a kick out of it if he could see me being the responsible one!"

The guys shrugged.

"Wait! Who are you and why are you here?" Maeby finally asked.

"I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer," Shawn answered. "This is my partner, Pogo Shtick. We've been hired to find your missing family members."

"Oh! Great!" Maeby exclaimed. "I really miss George Michael."

"Well, we'll be sure to let you know as soon as we find anything," Gus promised as he edged past her and out of the bedroom.

"Don't mind him," Shawn said as Maeby watched Gus' escape. "He didn't eat his Wheaties this morning."

"Psychic detective, huh?" Maeby asked. "That sounds like a good premise for a movie or a TV show. Mind if I try to work something up?"

"That'd be awesome! I've already got it cast for you. I'll be played by Ashton Kutcher. I say Gus should be Denzel, but he votes for Terry Crews," Shawn gushed.

Maeby gave him a wry smile. "I'll see what I can do."

"So, is there anything else you can tell me that will help me find your cousin?"

Maeby thought about it for a minute. "Nope."

"Alrighty then," Shawn said with a patently fake smile. "I'll just be leaving you to your work."

"OK," she distractedly replied, already focused on her new project.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-07


	5. Acabo

**Chapter 5**

After poking his head in the other two bedrooms and finding them completely trashed, he headed downstairs. Gus was waiting for him next to the front door.

"We're done, Shawn," he declared. "There's nothing else we're going to learn here. These people are even more dysfunctional than your family!"

Shawn opened his mouth to protest, but Gus had already turned away and walked to the door. Before he could say anything, Gus was twisting the handle on the front door.

It came off in his hand.

"That's it!" Gus cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. He gave the door a kick for good measure.

The door promptly fell outward.

Without looking back, Gus stalked off towards his car.

"Hey, Gus, wait up!" Shawn shouted as he bounded after his buddy.

"No, Shawn, I will not wait!" Gus yelled back as he pulled out his keys. "I am getting in my car, I am driving back home and I am drawing myself a hot, relaxing bath. Now I am leaving in 30 seconds, with or without you."

"You could do that," Shawn agreed. "Or we could go find the missing Bluths and get paid."

Gus stopped short. "You know where they are?" he asked incredulously.

Shawn grabbed the car keys while Gus was trying to get over his shock. "Of course I know where they are. Hop in and we'll go get them."

"No, Shawn. I'm not getting in the car until you tell me where they are," Gus argued

"Gus, get in the car!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Shawn sighed. "I can't tell you out here. The other PI they hired will hear us and could beat us to the reward."

Gus gaped at Shawn again. "What other detective?"

"You're telling me that you didn't notice the guy sitting over there dressed up as a cactus?"

Gus looked to the edge of the driveway, then did a double take. Without another word, he made a grab for his keys. Shawn was expecting it, though, so he nimbly dodged Gus, opened the driver's side door and hopped in. Grumbling the whole time, Gus stomped around the car and climbed in the passenger seat.

"OK, Shawn, where are we going?" he finally demanded after his partner had started the car and pulled out.

"Mexico!"

"You must be outta your damn mind, Shawn!" Gus exploded. "There's no way I'm going with you to Mexico again! You need to turn this car around right now!"

"But Gus, that's where our fugitives are hiding!" Shawn complained.

Gus crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you figure that, oh master charlatan?"

"Haven't you been paying any attention?" Shawn asked.

Gus continued to frown and gestured for Shawn to continue.

Heaving a martyred sigh, the psudo-psychic began his explanation. "Fine. First, we found the picture of the boat in GOB's trash can. Then Lucille told us about the house in Cabo. At the model home, there were additional pictures of the girl from the boat with both George Michael and GOB. The three men disappeared at the time of the boat party, which was when GOB moved from the yacht to the model home. So, obviously, George Michael and GOB fought over this girl. George Michael took the yacht and ran away to the beach house in Cabo. Michael went after his son and George went along, probably just to escape his crazy wife."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Gus derided.

"More ridiculous than Ted Logan as The One?" Shawn shot back. "Besides, we've gone on less."

"Not to Mexico!"

"Oh, don't be a derelict jumping bean, Gus!" Shawn whined. "You know I'm usually right about these things. And when I am again this time, we'll be rolling in the dough!"

"If we do this, Shawn, I'm setting some ground rules," Gus insisted. "First, I'm driving."

"Fine," Shawn agreed as he cut across traffic and pulled into a nearby Starbucks.

"Second, no fake names. _Especially_ at the border," Gus stated emphatically.

"I promise not to create an international incident," Shawn agreed.

"Again," Gus added. Shawn rolled his eyes but let Gus continue. "Third, no stops to look for an El Pollo Loco."

"Are you almost done?" Shawn whined.

"No, Shawn, I'm not. I'm just getting started."

"Well, can you continue inside? I'm dying of thirst out here!" he said as he headed into the coffee shop without waiting for an answer.

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

"Number 47, no piñatas," Gus said as they walked back out of the cafe. "Any time they see a black man with a piñata, they assume he's smuggling drugs."

As they reached the car, Shawn realized that his partner had finally stopped listing rules. "Fine. Can we go now?"

Gus narrowed his eyes at his best friend as he unlocked the car. "Were you even listening, Shawn?"

"Of course, Gus," he replied tiredly as he took his seat in the car. "Rule 47, no piñatas or they'll think you're smuggling the drugs from your pharmaceutical case. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when we get to Cabo."

"What about the border, Shawn? Shawn? Shawn!"

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

"Wake up, Shawn. We're in Cabo," Gus said as he shook his friend awake. "I can't believe you slept the whole way here!"

"In my defense, there were some truly fascinating infomercials on last night," he said. "Well, let's go to the house."

"How are we supposed to do that? We don't know where it is!" Gus objected.

"Easy, Gus," Shawn replied as he hopped out of the parked car. "We'll ask someone."

"It might take us forever to find someone that knows them!" Gus shouted at the retreating back of his partner.

Stopping the first person he met on the street, Shawn said, "¡Buenos días! ¿Sabe usted George Bluth?"

"Please, Shawn. That'll never-"

"Si! Señor Cornballer y los combatientes del niños!" the man said excitedly.

Shawn snapped his fingers. "Oh! Those Bluths!"

Gus frowned. "What, Shawn?"

"George Bluth is the guy who invented the Cornballer and did that infomercial with Richard Simmons. And he filmed the "Boy Fights" video series," Shawn explained.

"I don't even want to know why you know that," Gus declared.

"Dude, you know how much late night TV I watch," Shawn justified.

"Whatever, Shawn. Let's just get some directions and get this over with," Gus said testily.

After a few moments of struggling to understand the directions being given by the Mexican man, they finally figured out where to go. Mere minutes later, they pulled up in front of the beach house.

"Well, this looks familiar," Shawn said as they parked.

"Mmhmm," Gus agreed. If they had previously harbored any doubts as to whether or not they were at the right house, the McMansion and the yacht anchored out back removed any doubts. "Well, shall we?"

"We shall, Gus, we shall," Shawn answered as he climbed out of the car and headed up the front walk. He pushed the button for the doorbell and heard a crash from inside the house.

A few moments later, the door was opened by a dark haired man in his late thirties. "Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Michael Bluth?" Gus questioned.

"Yes," Michael replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Epic Fail," Shawn quickly said.

"Shawn! What did I say about fake names?" Gus complained.

"Why are you here?" Michael quickly interjected, showing his experience at breaking up arguments before they started.

"We were hired by the Bluth Company to bring you back home," Gus explained.

"I'll pay you double if you forget that you ever found us," Michael offered.

"Oh, no," Gus objected. "We couldn't-"

"Done," Shawn interrupted, sticking out his hand to shake.

"Shawn!" Gus yelled as he slapped Shawn's arm down. "We can't just break our word like that!"

"Sure we can," Shawn said as he sidestepped his partner to reach for Michael's now outstretched hand. "For one thing, we never actually signed anything, so technically we won't be reneging."

Gus raised an eyebrow.

"Besides, can you honestly say they're better off back there than they are here?" he continued. When Gus shrugged, he made his kill shot. "Besides, no one deserves to be sent back to that madhouse."

"You know that's right," Gus agreed.

"Ah, I see you've met my family," Michael commented. He stepped aside and gestured them in. "Well, come inside and I'll get you a check."

"Who is it, Dad?" came a voice from inside. A sandy-haired boy appeared on the landing from upstairs.

"No one, George Michael," his father answered.

"Well, it's obviously not no one, because someone's here," George Michael reasoned.

"Don't worry about it, son," he said. He pointed to a doorway off one side of the front entryway. "My office is right in there. If one of you would let me know the details so we can finish this up, I'll let you get back on your way."

Gus followed Michael through the doorway, leaving Shawn with the teenager.

"So," George Michael said before realizing he didn't have anything to say and stopping.

"Your wife really misses you," Shawn stated.

George Michael's eyes went comically wide. "She does? What? How? When? Wait, how could you know I'm..."

"I'm a psychic, and I'm getting a major crush of emotions from both of you," he explained. "Just thought you should know."

George Michael's face lit up. "Thanks!"

Shawn smirked. "No problem," he said as Gus and Michael reentered the room. "Ready to go, Gus?"

"It was nice to meet you," Gus said as they left the house. "Good luck in the future."

"Let's step on it, Gus," Shawn said as they climbed in the car. "I think I saw a Del Taco on the way here, and I'm starving!"

Gus gave him a fist bump. "I hear that."

~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~-,._.,-~'`^`'~

Posted 2016-04-08


End file.
